AN: This is a tribute of sorts dedicated to RightSidex who did a request of mine for a pic of Eric Draven (The Crow) and Buffy, and did it with a bizarre yet touching piece. RightSidex I hope you enjoy reading this.
Disclaimer: BTVS and The Crow belong to their respective owners. I do not and will not ever own them. I am not making any profit from this.
Eric Draven knew why he had come back to the world of the living. No one with darkness in their heart's or hatred in their soul could ever enter the place known as Heaven. Most Crows were able to let go and pass on, those who didn't were sent back with their powers to become a Crow once more and bring vengeance down on those that deserved it. The justice for the victims.
He would wonder and brush by people on the street, his touch telepathy letting him know if they were to be judged. Their pain was his pain, their hate was his hate, their suffering was his own. For ten years he wondered from city to city waiting for the day when the darkness was purged from him and he could rest in peace. Then he met *her*.
Her name was Buffy Summers and she had seemed excited at meeting someone else who had been chosen to fight the evil of the world. She had been so carefree and happy that it amazed him that she could fight demons and vampires. For a long time they almost happy, almost content. Then, he touched her.
He didn't know why he never had before, maybe he had been afraid at what he'd find and he'd been right to think that. Girls that he'd never seen before flashed in front of his eyes, their dead eyes accusing the girl that he'd fallen in love with of killing them. Not traditionally murdering them, true, but through Buffy's arrogance they were dead. They had trusted her, followed her, and died for her. Buffy buried them and called them weak, never thinking that it was her fault.
He saw the girls as they grew to hate her, he saw through their eyes as she lectured them on power and how only that mattered. Then, he saw through Buffy's eyes as she grew to love her own power and grew to be condescending toward the normal ones that she had envied. Worst yet, he saw Buffy realize that the greatest evil she had ever faced, The First, was only allowed to do the things it did because of Buffy, because she tipped the balance allowing The First to gain a foothold, and knowing that if she died then it would lose it's powers. She grew to love her own power and herself.
Buffy was the greatest kind of evil, the kind the masked it's heinous acts through a veil of righteousness. She chose to let those girls die instead of herself and felt no guilt over it. She had mocked and tried to destroy a loyal friend because he didn't follow her blindly anymore. All this and more passed through Eric's head in an instant.
He knew what the visions meant. They only ever came to him for two reasons, one was to show him the pain of the victims crying out for vengeance and the other was to show him who had been judged to have vengeance set upon them. The girls were chosen to avenged and Buffy was to be killed.
For the longest time he tried to avoid doing what he had sworn to do in the hopes that the dreams and visions would stop, but they didn't stop, if anything they only grew stronger. Finally he called Buffy and asked her to come to his loft in Detroit.
When she arrived, she looked out the broken window and admired the view of the city. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She played the coy act that she did, the innocent little girl, but he wasn't fooled, he knew behind her innocent facade lay the heart of a gir who fallen in love with herself and her own power. Someone who had became the abyss that she stared into night after night.
"I'm sorry." He whispered brokenly into her ear, his hand ind creeping up to her throat. In one jerking motion he snapped her neck. "But vengeance must be served."
He didn't cry, he didn't yelled, he just stood there holding her body, then he just let it slip out of his arms and fall out the broken window. It felt odd just standing there, it felt like something was missing from him. He realized what it was, his rage was gone.
Eric Draven watched as Buffy's body hit the concrete in an oddly similar way that his own had done. He turned away slowly and walked out of the apartment and headed toward his grave.
It was finally time to go home.
AN: This story is up for adoption. If your interested contact me via review.